Historical Evidence of My Grandpa:

I received an email today from my Uncle Steve. My Aunt Kathy is on a sojourn to Georgia where she was born and where my Granny and Grandpa lived for several years as my Grandpa started his ministry. He had gone to school at Mercer University in Macon and preached at Bowdon Baptist Church in Bowden, Georgia. Aunt Kathy is following his footsteps and seeing the places that were so meaningful in Grandpa's life. I am certainly envious, but very very joyful at the thought of my dear Aunt having these experiences.

Uncle Steve found in his research about Bowdon Baptist a mention in a biography of a Georgian philanthropist of my Grandfather. The things I know about Grandpa are from others. Their memories, their knowledge. And on some level this is wonderful. I am grateful for fond memories of a man who is so dear to my family, especially to my Momma and my Aunt. But I've often found the process of someone saying "He was a great man," to be a bit hollow. What does "great" mean? It can mean many things to many different people. And so, while I often feel gratitude that my grandpa impacted lives so positively, I feel angry and sad that he didn't get the chance to do the same in mine. At least, not that I can remember. But, and this is important, as I age I can see the beauty in the investigation of my Grandpa's life, personality, and experiences. I am an historian (and my Momma says some of my interest is surely to come from Grandpa) and in my heart I am continuously researching the history of my Grandfather.

Back to the original point: Uncle Steve sent me a wonderful anecdote in this biography of Lamar Rich Plunkett. As an historian it was a lovely bit of oral history and evidence. As a granddaughter, well I can't quite state what it meant/means. I can only smile with the stream of a few tears down my cheek and think simultaneously that I'm so lucky people loved him enough to remember and so jealous that I didn't get to see it in person. I am glad, however, that I continue to love this man who I never really knew, simply because he was my Grandfather. And really, at the end of the day, that's all he ever needs to be. It's enough.

I leave you with the entry from A Gift for Giving: The Story of Lamar Rich Plunkett by James C. Bryant (Mercer University Press, 1993), p. 218:

"Lamar loves his church and seldom misses a service. He has been a friend to all his pastors, but naturally he was closer to some than others. He served on a pulpit committee that found Ed Straney, one of his favorite pastors. "Straney was a Kentuckian, educated at Southern Baptist Seminary, and a brilliant preacher," Lamar said. "He also had a mind of his own and wouldn't compromise."

One day at a deacons meeting someone pressed the board to liven up the services with popular gospel music. They discussed the matter for a while, and when it seemed as though the proposal might succeed, the preacher spoke up. "You may vote to have undignified church music if you want to, " Pastor Straney said, "but I won't preach after it!"

L. Edward Straney, a 1945 graduate of Mercer University, was pastor of the Bowdon church from 1951 until 1953 prior to moving to Columbus, Georgia. In 1983 he was a pastor in Jeffersontown, Kentucky."

In 1983 he became my Grandpa, too.

Love,
Elizabeth

Happiness = Kai:

I'm tired. My brain feels like mush. And my legs are aching from inactivity. Stinkin' thesis. BUT, there is one continuous source of joy in my daily experience and that is seeing pictures of my gorgeous nephews Isaac and Kai. Today in particular a shot of my Kai (he's my godson, you know) made me smile and remember to have some perspective on this short period in my life when I will feel overwhelmed by one single text-based document. I share it with you so you can smile too.

Oh, yes, he is in fact the cutest baby I have ever seen. Love him!

I love you all too,
Elizabeth

Can't Sleep:

It's late, I cannot fall asleep. My mind is racing (thanks thesis) and honestly, I'm really homesick. Usually I come home this time of year and it's difficult being away from those I love most in the world. My momma used to sing me a lullaby when I was a small child. She's not here to sing one tonight, so this will have to do.



I miss my family.

Love to all,
Elizabeth

Draft Writing:

Tomorrow I'm submitting some drafts to my supervisor. I know they are supposed to be drafts. I know he knows they are supposed to be drafts. He has never, once, said anything bad or discouraging. He is supportive. And yet, I am nervous about giving him my work, lest he suddenly discover I'm an idiot. I know this won't happen. I know rationally it is not true. I know my work is well researched and thought out. I know I have to make changes, because that's what you do with a draft. But I have the fear! Nearly every grad student in Oxford has this fear. It's not spoken about, but it's rampant. It means that we all fear this comic becoming a reality:

I suppose the only way around this fear is to acknowledge it, accept it, and move beyond it. So, I have the fear. I'm not a fan, but there it is. I'm going to submit my work anyway, because even if it's bad, well, it's a draft and I will fix it. It's fine as long as I keep writing. I just hope my supervisor remembers that it is a draft too! :)

Love to all,
Elizabeth